


Sensual Warfare

by FesteringSilence, White_Rainbow



Series: Operation: Galactic Gambit [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode V: Empire Strikes Back, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Dirty Talk, Fanart, Finger Sucking, First Dates, Hand Feeding, Hand Jobs, M/M, Nipple Licking, Sensual Food play, Thrawn is very much enjoying himself, Veers does not have a handle on the situation, Veers does not mind not having a handle on the situation, Veers thinks he has a handle on the situation, foreign language kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-16 17:48:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9283160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FesteringSilence/pseuds/FesteringSilence, https://archiveofourown.org/users/White_Rainbow/pseuds/White_Rainbow
Summary: Prequel to:Tactical CoitusVeers surveyed the battlefield with a quiet stoicism. This was not a theater of his choosing; he was unarmed and his attire, a dress uniform sans his trusty cuirass, was hardly one befitting a general of his caliber. He was at a severe disadvantage. The odds were obviously set in favor of his opponent.This was indeed a well-calculated first date with Grand Admiral Thrawn. Veers would have to keep his wits about him if he was to gain any victory at all.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Co-Creator/Artist: [FesteringSilence](http://festeringsilence.tumblr.com/)  
> Co-Creator/Writer: [White Rainbow](http://white-rainbowff.tumblr.com/)

 

 

Veers surveyed the battlefield with a quiet stoicism. This was not a theater of his choosing; he was unarmed and his attire, a dress uniform sans his trusty cuirass, was hardly one befitting a general of his caliber. He was at a severe disadvantage. The odds were obviously set in favor of his opponent.

This was indeed a well-calculated first date with Grand Admiral Thrawn. Veers would have to keep his wits about him if he was to gain any victory at all.

Thrawn had chosen his own personal quarters for dinner. The lavish dining area was both quaint and exquisite. A simple cherry wood table was adorned with a glittering gold-spun tablecloth embroidered with exotic flowers. A pair of brass candleholders engraved with totemic faces sat atop the table on either side of a wide sterling silver tray. The tray held several bowls of crustaceans on the half-shell and a main dish of Lobster Bisellian. All was in easy reach, though Veers noted the wine carafe was placed closer to Veers than it was to Thrawn.

_A clever tactic._ Veers noted.

He had filled his crystal goblet a third of the way and took shallow sips throughout the meal.

The silence between Thrawn and himself was, in fact, surprisingly comfortable. Thrawn had commented occasionally on the origins of each delicacy Veers had tried. Veers took his time examining each morsel and commented accordingly on how much he fancied each. He admitted that Thrawn’s taste in food was unparalleled; not only did he have a sophisticated palate, but somehow knew the sort of cuisine Veers enjoyed. He wondered just how Thrawn came to know of Veers’ love of seafood. He tucked his inquiry away for later investigation.

With dinner complete, Thrawn sank back into his chair and steepled his fingers. Veers mirrored Thrawn’s relaxed pose, though he leaned to the right, one elbow propped against the chair arm, his strong, prominent chin resting on the edge of his long fingers.

They gazed at each other for several long moments.

Veers was not accustomed to the look of a Chiss, but found that the Grand Admiral’s features were as striking as any human Veers had found appealing. Thrawn’s features were angular and razor-sharp. A prominent chin gave way to a strong jawline and his cheekbones framed a narrowly sculpted nose. His dark hair was combed back revealing a regal forehead and a pair of sideburns stopping just above his earlobes, which were perfectly within Imperial standards. Truly, the only alien features about the man was the cerulean hue of his skin, the gentle slope of bone above his brow, and a pair of haunting, hooded eyes the color of deadly blaster bolts.

Veers kept his breath steady as he looked into those crimson orbs. He wondered what those piercing eyes found when looking at the General. Veers was a mountain of a man, tall-legged and long-torsoed, and he was several inches taller than most officers of both the Army and Navy Divisions. Many found his features to be austere, and he did not argue this point. His serious tone aided his reputation for being a ruthless general, which he had proven time and again on the battlefields of the planets he had conquered.

A thin smile pulled slightly at Thrawn’s soft pink lips. “You are from Denon, are you not?”

Veers nodded. “I am.”

_What is he playing at?_

“I have known that humans from an ecumonopolis such as Coruscant or Denon tend to be a rash sort. They are more interested in the quickest solutions rather than the proper ones. They mate, they work, they die and have no time to appreciate the finer things in life.”

Veers’ face did not reflect the irritation that gnarled in his stomach. He took a steady sip of wine, considering his answer before speaking.

“I do not argue that there are many on Denon who find a life of being a ‘worker bee’ acceptable. There are those among them, however, that have the acumen to rise above the common insects, investing in more creative arts. We, in fact, do have whole districts that are dedicated to these ‘finer things’. Not those posh, faux-classical districts that tourists may venture to, but middle-of-the-road districts rich in culture, color and whimsy. To judge all Denonians solely on the main populace would be like judging the hive before tasting the honey.”

Thrawn hummed a non-committal response. “An interesting analogy. I suppose you would count yourself above these common workers? A drone perhaps?”

Veers allowed a small smile. “A drone is a mere puppet to serve the queen. Denonian bees, however, have soldiers that guard the hive itself. I fall into that category. I spent my days on Denon protecting it, its citizens and its culture.”

“Ah, a soldier through and through…” Thrawn smirked, taking a small sip of wine, and saying nothing more.

Veers' smile faltered briefly as he realized what was happening here.

It was no secret that the Imperial Navy held a certain disdain for the Imperial Army, seeing them as brutish and unsophisticated. While the Navy wore pristine uniforms, conducting their business from the safety of their star destroyers, officers like Veers were in the heat of battle planetside, sweating, bleeding, fighting in an “uncivilized” manner. In many ways it was, Veers had no qualms about this. After all, one must get his hands dirty to win wars, but to say he and his men were uncivilized?

_And yet I declared myself a soldier bee, whose sole purpose is protecting the hive._ He had fallen right into that stereotype.

Veers was not here to defend himself, however. When one begins to retreat is when one risks showing their weakest points. And Veers was a man of little weakness. He knew that Thrawn did not bring him here to insult him. He invited him to dinner to size him up. To see if he was worthy of the Chiss’ attention.

What the Grand Admiral failed to realize was Veers had been observing Thrawn from afar for as long as the Chiss had been studying him. Veers had the man in his sights...the question was now whether it is worth it to pull the trigger.

“The Chiss…” Veers said thoughtfully, “Now that is a race little is known about.”

Thrawn did not hide his smugness. “We like to keep to ourselves,” the Chiss purred.

“So different from Denonians. We do not hide behind veils of ice. We are not governed by vague government structures that are undoubtedly influenced by the shadows of higher powers. We are forward with our intentions. We lay our Sabacc cards on the table, so to speak. It is any wonder Chiss are able to communicate in anything short of enigmatic riddles.”

To Veers’ surprise he saw Thrawn bristle for the briefest moment, before catching himself and regaining a pleasant smile.

_So he has a temper on him...good to know._

“We Chiss are careful. We do not trust easily and so if we seem vague and mysterious, it is only because we take our time deciding whether others are worthy of knowing more about us.”

“How...one-sided of you,” Veers smirked.

“I suppose,” Thrawn conceded. “I will give you that only I have been successful in gaining trust within the Empire. There are other Chiss with as much talent as I that the Emperor did not find to be as credible as myself.”

Veers allowed himself to look impressed. “So I am sitting with the pick of the litter, am I?”

Thrawn seemed more amused by the comment than insulted. “I suppose you are,” then in a moment of thoughtfulness Thrawn asked, “And would you consider yourself the...pick of the litter?”

“I certainly am not the runt.”

“No,” Thrawn said, his red eyes gliding over Veers’ form. “I would not peg you as such.”

Veers swallowed. Intellectual sparring was one thing, but when it came to the physical, the general found himself more comfortable using his hands to squeeze an AT-AT cannon trigger than to...touch another man intimately. “I would not say I was picked. I had no family or connections that helped me climb the ranks. In fact, similar to you, I had to prove my worth before I was allowed to climb any higher than a colonel. Being a good soldier, and being a good officer are two different sides of the same coin. I needed to prove that I could be just as deadly commanding my AT-AT unit as I was driving one.”

Thrawn nodded. “I have heard stories about your accomplishments, General...”

Veers returned the nod. “As have I heard tales of yours…”

They eyed each other for a moment...then both quietly refilled their wine glasses.

Veers enjoyed the silence for what it was. Even with the small banter and minor jabs at each others’ cultures, the air still held a pleasantness. Veers, feeling a bit more comfortable, took a more generous sip of his wine. As his nose took in floral notes and his tongue was bathed in the sweet and oaky nectar, Thrawn took the opportunity to ask, “How many mates have you had in your life, General?”

Veers snorted, gasped, and choked all at once. He set down the goblet with an audible clink and coughed into his napkin.

Thrawn merely smiled, the lip of his goblet resting against his wet mouth while he waited for the General to recover.  

Veers cleared his throat and tried his best to act as if he was _not_ taken by surprise by the forwardness of Thrawn’s approach.

_He lured me in with a frontal assault only to use guerilla warfare from behind._

“Does the number of mates I have had in my life make any difference in how I conduct myself with a future mate?” Veers countered.

Thrawn appeared to actually consider this. “I could take your question as evasive, General.”

“You could,” Veers granted. “I assure you that the number is low. I have been focused more on my career and had little interest in distractions.”

“But you have had mates?”

Veers found that he was not breathing. He feared that if he did take a breath, it would be an uneven, panicked sound that would unleash the blush threatening to surface on his face.

“I have had mates,” he said evenly. In fact, Veers had been with exactly two people in his life. Two people whom he had chosen carefully. One had betrayed him. The other had passed away. It was in the past. Veers had moved on.

Wishing to parry another invasive question on his personal life, Veers quickly asked, “Are you asking because your number is relatively high and you are seeking validation? Or are you asking because your number is woefully low and you are hoping for some commiseration?”

At this Thrawn laughed. It was a brief sound, velvety and deep. Veers ignored the warmth pooling in his belly at the reaction.

_Focus…this is no time to get comfortable. There is a battle to be won._

“I deserve that, I suppose,” Thrawn admitted. “Forgive me if I am too forward. I forget humans are not as open to such things. Your species has so many different customs depending on your region. Your race is one of the more elusive ones I have come across.”

“And yet here you are eluding the very question you have put forth to me,” Veers said, raising his wine glass casually before taking a sip.

Thrawn’s red eyes flashed for a moment. “My number is also relatively low.”

Veers was tempted to advance forward, to invade and conquer Thrawn’s personal comfort level, but such a maneuver would put him in a vulnerable spot, open for retaliation. He let the answer go.

“Your temperance is impressive, General,” Thrawn remarked. “I misjudged your station, assuming you to have less control over your emotions. It does lead me to wonder if this means you lack passion.”

Veers wanted to shift to a more comfortable position, but such a movement  would display his discomfort. He remained still.

“I am in control when I need to be, and in the heat of battle one must keep his head. You mistake my control for being passionless, when in fact it is my love of what I do and the cause I fight for that fuel my need to maintain control. If I acted out of passion rather than logic, I would hurt the one thing I love most.”

“And what is that?” Thrawn asked, putting the goblet to his lips.

“The Empire.”

The Chiss set the wine goblet down and Veers noticed the red liquid glistening against his pink lips. A red tongue surfaced and slowly licked the wine away, leaving his mouth wet. This time Veers was forced to shift his legs, his body betraying his need to stay focused.

“Would you care for dessert, General?”

Veers quietly let out the breath he had been holding for too long, relieved and...a little surprised that the Chiss did not immediately attack the break in Veers’ defenses.

“Please…”

Thrawn pressed the comm on the edge of the table and a service droid rolled into view. Its flat head served as a tray for a pair of small cakes. A thin, toasted pie crust held a thick violet cream cake. Adorning the center of each cake was a small cluster of blueberries surrounded with small purple flower petals.

“Grand Admiral, this is impressive,” Veers said, arching an eyebrow. “What is it?”

“A Chiss dessert called _Luen’thraw,_ ” the word rolled off Thrawn’s tongue with a sultry trill. “I changed the recipe only slightly. I have been told that Chiss desserts tend to be too sweet even for human tastes.”

Veers sat back and watched the droid busily clean away his table setting, clearing away utensils and plates before setting the small cake in front of him. It refilled his water glass and topped off his wine before rolling over and repeating the process for Thrawn. With a final chirp it wheeled back into the kitchen, leaving the two alone again.

Veers looked around his setting. “Your service droid seems to have forgotten utensils.”

Thrawn smiled. “In order to enjoy all aspects of _Luen’thraw_ , one does not need an instrument other than those you already possess.”

“We eat with our fingers,” Veers said, unamused.

“We eat with our fingers,” Thrawn affirmed.

With a sigh, Veers regarded his cake. The crust, he noted, had toasted coconut embedded in a dense cookie and the lip of said crust rose slightly higher than the creamed cake. He broke off an edge and moved to dip it into the cake, treating it as he would a pâté.

“A moment, General,” Thrawn said quickly.

Veers paused, looking up at the Chiss and noticing he had not touched his cake at all. “There is...a method in eating this cake.”

“Do Chiss always make things difficult? Or is it just you, Grand Admiral?”

“Oh I assure you, once I show you, you will find it rather easy to consume.”

Veers’ heart thumped hard against his chest as Thrawn rose from his chair. His mind raced, trying to come up with possible reasons why the Grand Admiral was advancing on his position.

He came closer...surely he was going to stop at the end of the table. A nervous lump rose in the General’s throat. His calm visage was starting to waver, he could feel it. He kept his eyes steady, but felt cool perspiration surface on his temples.

Thrawn loomed over Veers, who looked blankly up at the Grand Admiral.

“If you would…” Thrawn said, gesturing to...what exactly?

Veers did not move for a moment.

“G...Grand Admiral?”

Thrawn leaned against the table, his red eyes seemed to be practically glowing scarlet. Was that even possible? They seemed...ignited.

“Would you like me to show you _how_ we devour _Luen’thraw_?” Thrawn’s silky voice seeped into Veers' being, and the general began to feel his iron resolve bend. So much so that when the Chiss pressed his boot against the leg of Veers’ chair and pushed him away from the table, he did nothing to object.

_“Sometimes...we must retreat...to...go forward…”_ A commanding officer told Veers that once, though for the life of him, the general could not think of whom it was.

Thrawn was not a small man, but he was slighter than Veers. So when he slid onto Veers, straddling the general’s powerful legs, Veers found the Chiss to be surprisingly light. Thrawn smelled fresh, crisp, a delicate combination of citrus and linens. Veers found himself breathing in deep, and the noise seemed to encourage the Chiss more.

“Are you comfortable, General?” Thrawn purred.

Veers’ brown eyes gazed into the Chiss’ red orbs, no longer able to hide their shock. The Chiss was so close...his hips mere inches away from the awakening happening within Veers’ trousers. The arsenal of tactical prowess was now buried beneath seventy-eight kilograms of sinewy muscle...muscle Veers could feel tightening around his thighs as Thrawn turned to reach for the dessert on the table.

Veers’ entire body tensed, his arms at his sides gripping the legs of the chair as if paralyzed. When Thrawn turned back to face him, his eyes raked the general’s tense posture.

“General,” Thrawn cooed, holding the cake in front of him. “If you do not wish to taste what I have to offer…” He began to rise.

Veers’ hands reached for the Chiss’ narrow hips before he realized what he was doing. Thrawn paused, looking down at those large hands holding him firmly, a sideways smile spreading across his face.

“So you are interested…”

Willing his hands to not shake, Veers guided Thrawn onto his lap, his hands settling on the Grand Admiral’s thighs, feeling cords of muscle twitch beneath his fingers.

“Now,” Thrawn said, holding up the plate between them. “There is an order to enjoying the dish. First…” He plucked a blueberry from the center of the cake. “You prepare your palate with the blueberry.” He held the small berry to the general’s lips.

Veers opened his mouth just enough to let it slip through, feeling the soft pads of the Chiss’ fingers graze his lips before pulling away. He pressed the berry between his tongue and the roof of his mouth, juices bursting over his taste buds, tanginess and sweetness coating his mouth. Thrawn’s eyes glittered, watching Veers work the berry in his mouth with open fascination. “With the berry’s juices on your tongue, you may now take in the Csill petals. These are only grown in Csilla. They are tasteless unless mixed with certain types of berries. Now,” he plucked a single petal the size of his thumb, “if you would be so kind as to show me your tongue.”

Veers swallowed.

Thrawn arched an expectant eyebrow.

Slowly, Veers opened his mouth and slid his tongue out. Thrawn drew in a heavy breath, his eyes flickering at the sight of it. Carefully, the Chiss laid the petal on the flat of the general’s tongue, careful not to touch it himself. The petal melted on his tongue almost instantly and a sweet bouquet of berries and flora danced over his taste buds. Veers withdrew his tongue, his eyes widening.

“That is incredible,” he said, swallowing and yet the flavor had not diminished. In fact his mouth watered for more.

“And now for the actual dessert,” Thrawn breathed.

Veers watched the Chiss take a long, cerulean finger and delved it into the center of the cream cake. A soft, wet sound teased Veers’ ears as he dragged his index along the dessert, creating a deep groove along its surface. When he pulled up, a large violet dollop rested on his finger.

“Open,” he commanded.

And Veers...obeyed.

He opened his mouth and let Thrawn’s long fingers slip inside. The sweet and tangy cream embraced the sweetness of blueberries and the floral notes of the Csill petals, and it melted in Veers’ mouth. His taste buds exploded with pleasure and he found himself suckling hungrily on Thrawn’s index, eager to lap up the indulgent treat. Thrawn exhaled a soft sound, and as Veers devoured the last of the dessert, he found that he did not want to stop. And when Thrawn pulled his hand away, Veers gave out a soft whimper.

“Do you want more?” Thrawn asked, his voice husky, his lips drawing closer.

“Stars…yes...please...” Veers tried to find purchase in the situation. His brain tried to grasp onto some logic in order to assess and plan what tactic to carry out next. His body, however, had other plans. It shivered under Thrawn as the Chiss’ fingers plunged into the dessert again, pulling out cream-covered digits. He could do nothing, but feel the ache grow in his body as he watched those fingers drag over the Chiss’ lips, coating them obscenely.

Veers finally threw logic and tactical analysis out of his mental airlock as his lips sought out the Chiss’ cream-coated mouth. He licked and sucked at those impossibly soft, indulgently sweet lips, finding that even his breath and tongue had a sweetness to it. When his lips were licked clean, Veers turned his attention to the Chiss’ fingers once again, two of them, which were covered in the delectable dessert. They slid over his tongue, scissoring and swirling within his mouth, and when Thrawn finally pulled away, those cleaned fingers made an obscene wet popping sound that made both general and grand admiral pant with eagerness.

“I have been thinking of this mouth for some time now, General. I must say, it does not disappoint, nor does that clever tongue of yours.”

Although Veers heard every word Thrawn said, he found it difficult to focus. His skin was alive with need, craving Thrawn in every sense, wanting to devour him as badly as he wanted more of the cream cake. He found himself fumbling clumsily with Thrawn’s belt, only to have the Chiss grab his wrists and gently pull them away, sobering Veers from his hungry craze.

“So hungry,” Thrawn tutted, “It is any wonder you have not starved to death aboard this ship.”

“I did starve,” Veers panted, leaning in and nipping at Thrawn’s soft pink lips.

“And did you ever dream that I would satiate your appetite?”

Veers afforded him a playful half-smile. “That still remains to be seen, Grand Admiral.”

The smile that spread across Thrawn’s glistening lips sent a shiver through Veers. Thrawn leaned back, the small of his back pressing against the table. In slow, purposeful movements, Thrawn glided his hands up his long torso until he reached the collar of his tunic. Never taking his fiery, lustful gaze away from Veers he set himself to unfasten his tunic hook...by...hook…revealing more of that impossibly smooth blue skin. Thrawn bit his bottom lip in a calculated alluring fashion, pulling away the front of his tunic to reveal a beautifully shallow slope of rolling muscle. A pair of deep blue nipples perked the moment the cool air kissed them, hardening to small nubs.

It was on these nubs that Thrawn began to smear sweet cream across them, the pale violet color a stark contrast with the cerulean skin and deep midnight blue nipples. He let out a series of gentle gasps as his fingers worked around the hardened nubs.

Veers’ body was an inferno; his nerves electrified, his mouth wet with need. A carnal side was winning in this passionate battle Thrawn had declared. With a feral growl, Veers grabbed the Chiss’ solid gluteus and lifted him in the air. Without missing a beat, Thrawn wrapped his powerful legs around the general’s waist, bracing himself as he was lifted onto the table, fingers still playing over his chest covered in the sweet, sticky treat.

He landed on the wooden table with a soft thud, Veers’ hips rocking gracelessly against him.

“Brute,” Thrawn chided lightly.

“Only when the need arises,” Veers retorted, biting at the Chiss’ smooth neck. In many ways the general truly did fancy himself as a civilized and sophisticated gentleman. Yet, seeing Thrawn like this, leaning back on the table, hands behind him, broad chest splayed before him, something primal clicked within Veers.

The cream was already beginning to melt on Thrawn’s chest, sliding down his pectorals which were now heaving with need. His chest was broader and more cut than Veers had expected; he delighted in knowing that all this time, beneath that white naval uniform, was a true warrior’s body.

Veers leaned down and, starting at the cleft where abdomen met pectoral, dragged his tongue up the trail of cream. Thrawn’s body shuddered at the sensation.

Veers grinned.

Before tonight, it was easy to label Thrawn as some cool, level-headed creature void of impulse and rashness. Beneath that control, however, Veers realized that the grand admiral was a bubbling pool of molten lava waiting to be unleashed. And Veers wanted to be the catalyst for Thrawn’s eruption.

Veers took his time. The tip of his tongue swirled around the midnight blue nipple, giving the occasional quick flick, reveling in the Chiss’ back arching at the sudden sensation. “Mmm...Maximilian…” Thrawn moaned in a low, luscious voice. Veers paused for a brief moment. He had not heard his full name since he graduated from the academy. Hearing it on Thrawn’s lips was both jarring and...sort of beautiful.

“Just Max,” he gently suggested, grazing his teeth over the Chiss’ tender flesh.

Thrawn hummed appreciatively. “Max…of course...it suits you...”

“I want to hear you say your name…”

Thrawn gave a breathless laugh. “Moan my own name? How vain you must think of me.”

“I want to hear how you say it,” Veers replied, then he took Thrawn’s nipple between his lips, mouthing it relentlessly.

Thrawn arched his back, pressing against Veers’ hungry mouth as he let the name roll off his tongue in a sensual, dreamy cadence.

“Mitth’raw’nuruodo.”

Veers moaned openly, leaning up to kiss those lips coated in the honey of that seductive language.

Thrawn caught Veers’ lower lip in his mouth, suckling softly before whispering, “It seems you enjoy the sound of my native tongue.”

“It is...unusual,” Veers said, not bothering to hide the obvious underplay. He slotted his hips between Thrawn’s parted legs, his hardness finding the Chiss’ woefully covered cock and grinding against it almost painfully. Thrawn’s hand slipped between their bodies, deftly unbuckling Veers’ trousers, the general’s cock emerging from his briefs without much resistance. When Thrawn took hold, Veers let out a choked gasp. He looked down, marveling at the contrast between his reddened member and the blueness of those soft hands.

Thrawn pressed his lips against Veers’ earlobe and in a husky tone he moaned, _“Vacosetahn tur ch'ah.”_ He gave the general’s staff long, firm strokes, his hand felt impossibly smooth, almost slick against the general’s shaft. _“Vacosetahn tur ch'aaaah,”_ he purred again, dragging out the last word, and sending Veers rocketing to his peak.

“Wh...what does that mean?” Veers panted, bucking into the Chiss’ hand.

Thrawn smiled, his tongue moistening his already wet lips. “ _Come for me…_ ”

And with that, Veers obeyed.

White release spilled over the Chiss’ belly as Veers pumped himself through the grand admiral’s tight grip. Only when the general’s movements began to slow did Thrawn lie back on the table, belly and chest painted with glistening come and slick trails of saliva and cream, a panting, writhing, beautiful mess. He looked at Veers with hooded, glowing scarlet eyes.  

His limbs shaking and weak, Veers slowly lifted himself off of Thrawn, kissing his way down the slick, blue skin, lapping up sweat and come and the last remaining sweetness of cream, and making his way towards the Chiss’ trousers. He mouthed boldly over the engorged member pressing against Thrawn’s pants.

With a soft hiss and a chuckle, Thrawn gently pushed Veers away and sat up. “I believe we are finished with dessert, general.”

Veers blinked. “You don’t…”

“This evening has been enlightening to say the least and I must say I have more than enough data to assess any future encounters we may have.”

Veers sat back in his chair breathless.

_Of course,_ Veers thought, _the main objective here was for us to size each other up. To see if we are compatible._

Except, it seemed Thrawn had much more intel on the general than vice versa.

As the Grand Admiral took a cloth serviette and cleaned himself, he wore a pleased smile, now free of his molten lust. “Thank you for accompanying me this evening. Would you care for a caff before you head out?”

Veers smirked. “And is there a trick to drinking Chiss caff?”

Thrawn chuckled softly. “There is not.”

“Such a pity, but yes. I would enjoy that.”

They took their designated places at the table. A droid came out several minutes later with large mugs of caff, and once it left, the two of them drank in comfortable silence.

When it was time to depart, Veers and Thrawn treated this meeting as they would any conclusionary conference: they shook hands.

Veers was content to pull away, but Thrawn’s grip tightened, a soft thumbpad gliding over the general’s knuckles.

“I will see you again,” Thrawn stated, rather than asked.

The general afforded a tight smile, belying the thrill welling in his belly. “Most likely.”

Thrawn smirked. “Good evening, General.”

The general clicked his heels and gave a short bow. “Grand Admiral.”

\-----

Veers had expected to succumb to exhaustion as soon as he lay on his bed in his officer’s quarters. Yet, sleep eluded him. His mind turned the evening’s events over, though he was more focused on what was just out of reach rather than what was obtained. He should have been thinking about the dessert...he should have been thinking of those fingers slipping into his mouth, and then the way those same fingers stroked his cock. He should have been feeling satisfied…

And yet he felt...hungry.

_Why?_

Veers stared up at the ceiling.

_“Brute…”_

_“Max…”_

_“Vacosetahn tur ch'aaaah.”_

Veers exhaled a shaky breath, his cock twitching reflexively despite being completely spent.

“Thrawn…” Veers whispered in the dark, his hand idly brushing his half-hearted arousal. Even the sound of the Chiss’ name was intoxicating, and he found himself craving it even in this state.

_“I believe we are finished with dessert.”_

Veers blinked.

Suddenly, it all made sense...

This had been an uphill battle from the start. Veers had lost before he had even set foot in the Chiss’ quarters. Thrawn knew the general’s history, his reputation. He knew that General Maximilian “Iron Max” Veers, commander of Blizzard Force, was a conqueror of worlds. He never retreated, he never backed down, and he was not satisfied until his duty was done.

_Until his duty was done._

Therein lay the truth of Thrawn’s victory. It had seemed like the Chiss had denied himself of pleasure needlessly, when in fact he was merely planting the smallest seed of craving within the general; it had not taken long before that craving had taken root. Every part of Veers ached to hear the Chiss again. To hear him say his name, to hear him speak _Cheunh_ and to utter those deep, velvety moans.

And Thrawn was not going to simply satisfy Veers’ desire...he would make the general work for it, wouldn’t he?

Veers smirked.

_I am a conqueror of worlds, I do not surrender so easily._

The next time their paths crossed, Veers was determined to conquer the Chiss and claim him as his own.

And so Veers set to plan out his next attack in this sensual warfare.


End file.
